Just Say It
by british-bossy
Summary: Clara phones Mycroft at work because she has something important to tell him. But somehow the words won't come out. Myclara
1. Chapter 1

Just Say It

She throws one last look at the labels on her shelf before she presses the green button on her smartphone. The moment she lifts it to her ear, her heart beat speeds up. Trying to calm down, she runs through the list of arguments she is going to bring up. Clara takes a few deep breaths and rests her free hand on her hip, trying not to pad from one foot to the other nervously. As the line gives her the familiar _beep_ , _beep_ she rereads her notes for the twentieth time.

 **By accident**

 **TRUTH**

 **the pill**

 **2 weeks**

 **late**

It's not helping. Her pulse is racing as she hears him picking up. "Clara", Mycroft greets her, clearly surprised by her call for she knows that he's working and does not like to be disturbed. It has always been some sort of unspoken agreement between them. _Not at work, never at work unless it's an emergency!_

Considering what she has just learnt it is so much like an emergency, as far sh she is concerned. What's she going to say? _"Hey, guess what? I've got news!"_ No, she can't possibly start it that way. Clara sighs and closes her eyes, trying to remember her list of arguments.

 **JUST SAY IT**

"Are you all right?", his voice reaches her ear once more and she realises that she has not said a word since he has picked up. She turns her back on the lables on her shelf and finally finds her voice: "Yes! I mean no! No, I'm -"

 _Goddamit, this can't be true!_

"Is something the matter?", he asks, clearly concerned by now. He is so often when it comes to her. A sudden rush of affection for him makes her face light up with a smile before she says: "No. No, listen. I'm fine. Just-" She turns back to her shelf, her own words staring at her as if to insult her. She can hear her own voice in her head, reading the words out loud.

 **By accident**

 **2 weeks**

As her heart beat speeds up once more or maybe it hasn't stopped, she's not sure, she finally gets her mouth to work. Her throat feels dry, so she swallows. "There is something I _have_ to tell you and...and it's, it's..news. So, please just listen, yeah? Just listen".

When she hears nothing from him, she asks: "Mycroft?". What if he's already hung up? What if he doesn't have the time for this? What if he doesn't have any time for...

"Yes, I am listening", he says calmly and she suppresses a heavy sigh. Sometimes she admires him for his patience. He's a good man. He's her boyfriend, he will understand. Nodding at herself a few times, she tries once more: "Ok, well, I...I have-", she looks at the lables again. "I have a...thing t tell you and it's gonna be...it's news." Realising that she's repeating herself, she steps closer to her bookshelf, her eyes roaming over her words.

 **the pill**

 **late**

 **TRUTH**

Her stomach twists and she wonders if she's going to throw up once more. _No, no don't think about that right now! Go ahead, tell him!_

Clara steps away from the shelf once more, moving around her living room in circles. It's not helping, it's rather distracting. She stops at her desk, taking the report of immediate change in her hand. Two red stripes. Your life's changing. She did not plan for this. He wouldn't have want her to. He doesn't want to. He won't understand. He will be angry.

"So, what are these news?", he asks and his voice nearly makes her jump. She drops the test and her eyes stray to the shelf, again.

 **JUST SAY IT**

She wants to tear her hair, feels her stomach twist again. It's unbearable. She can't do it! "Shut up!", she exclaimes, suddenly annoyed. "No, shut up! Shut up, I _need_ to talk to you!" She is panting now, her eyes have started to fill with tears and her heart feels as if it's about to jump out of her chest. She's feeling rather warm. Too warm.

 **JUST SAY IT**

"I am listening". His voice is steady, assuring, gentle. As if he's trying to calm her. How is he doing this? How can he always, _always_ be in control?

"Ok, listen! It's not my fault in any way, do you understand?". Her face is burning hot by now and her rage only increases. She wants to hit him through the phone. She wants to throw the phone away, smach it against the shelf and her stupid lables. She wants to run. She wants to turn back time. Back to the point when the whole thing started. Back to the beginning. "I did _not_ plan for this, I can't say that I didn't want to but there wasn't _any_ concious decision on my part! This is _not_ my fault!" Clara stops for breathing, her hand back on her hip.

 **JUST SAY IT**

Still, he sounds calm and peaceful. "I am afraid I cannot follow you". She wants to scream. The thoughts were running wild inside her mind before she phoned him. They were ordered and listed and she knew exactly how to spell them out. But now she finds her mind blank, unable to process and unable to work.

 **JUST SAY IT**

"Ok, look", she tries again. "I...I am-". Her stomach twists painfully and suddenly she cannot breathe properly anymore. _Oh, no. Please, no, not now!_

"Clara?". She lets her phone drop, clapping a hand to her mouth and runs to the bathroom. When she comes out again, she finds her phone, the connection broken.

 _Good job, Clara!_

She's got one message left on her phone. It's from Mycroft.

"I will see you at your place at 8pm. MH"

 _Oh, for crying out loud!_


	2. Chapter 2

Hard To Say

She's still moving in circles. Every now and then she stops to wash the dishes or to collect the lables from her shelf and throw them into the bin. In the evening she finds herself on her sofa with a cup of tea, trying not to stare at her phone. After failing to tell Mycroft the truth Clara's been considering to call him once more but she's decided against it. She knows that it won't turn out any better than her last try. And now Mycroft knows that something is up. He is coming over tonight to talk to her. How is she supposed to look him in the eye and tell him? How is she supposed to handle it? She's scared. Scared of his reaction. What will he say? All she can do for now is breathe and wait.

She spends the following hours running throuh every possible scenario that might occur. He might be angry. He might be surprised. He might be shocked and unable to say anything at all. He might turn and leave without saying a word. Actually that would be the worst, she finds. She wouldn't mind him yelling at her. She wouldn't mind him being angry with her. But if he walks out and leaves her without saying anything... That would be too much. Clara keeps on wondering why she has decided to tell him in the first place. From the beginning he has made his point quite clear. He doesn't want children. He doesn't like them. He is the British Government, always busy, rarely at home. How can she even suggest that me might change? Deep down, she knows that he won't.

She rememberes Sherlock's words, back on Christmas Eve, one and a half years ago.

" _If it comes between you and his beloved country he will choose the latter"._

Sherlock was right. There is no future for them. There is no happy ending for Clara Oswald.

Clara Oswald, the young schoolteacher who's always wanted to have kids. She always imagined that one day she would be a mother. Regardless of her relationship status, all that mattered was that she would raise a son or daughter, or maybe both. But however hard she tries she just can't imagine Mycroft Holmes with children. He is so...he is never going to approve. When she found out this morning, she was happy as first, delighted in fact. She imagined the joy it would bring. She even thought about a name when it hit her. Mycroft.

She had to tell Mycroft that he's going to be a father. Would he leave her? Would he tell her to get rid off it? Would he call it an accident? Would he blame her? What is he going to do? What are they going to do? What does she do?

The scratching of the key makes her snap back into the moment and she stands, straightens her blouse. Her fingers linger upon her belly for a second and she swallows down her insecurity. There is no way she is going to give her child up! Not for him. Not for anybody. This is her life and it's her decision.

Mycroft enters her flat and leaves his coat and umbrella at the wardrobe. Clara can see him moving. He stops in the doorway of the living room, wearing his grey three piece suit with a blue tie. Her own flat suddenly appears shabby to her with him inside. He seems as if he's just teleported here from a different world. Mycroft is all glamourous, straight and dignified, always perfect.

It takes her a few seconds before she realises that she's staring at him. He looks so handsome, so bloody attractive. "Hello", he greets her, his face blank and his tone mild. He must be confused. She left him with an abruptly ended phone call, unable to tell him what the hell is going on. "We need to talk", she blurts out and straightens herself. Mycroft lets his head drop and steps closer until he's standing right in front of her and she has to raise her head to look at him. "All right", he says and gives her the most gentle look. "Go ahead".

Her everything wants to reach out and hug him tightly. She wants to rest her head on his chest, listen to the calming sound of his heart beat and lose herself in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her body. She wants to kiss him. But she takes a step back instead, giving herself a better view of him. She needs to see his reaction when she tells him. She has to see every movement. After drawing one deep breath she starts: "Okay, well, what I was trying to tell you this afternoon was-"

 _2 weeks_

 _late_

 _by accident_

Shaking her head, she tries to focus. "I love you", she says, not sure where these words are coming from. She wants to tell him what's going on but her mouth is taking a completely different road down the problem now. Mycroft sees. Of course, he does. He furrows his eyebrows slightly, his hands burrowed in his pockets. "I know", he states, trying to analyse her strange behaviour and steps closer to her once more. _No, don't do this now! I can't give in. I will break down!_

In a sudden rush of panic, she backs away rather violently. He freezes in response and Clara wants to kick herself. What is he thinking right now? "No, I don't mean it like that. Not like it's automatic", she explains, trying to make him see. He has to know what he means to her. If she makes him know then maybe, just maybe she still has a chance to make it right. "Not like it's how you end the phone call, the sign off, the pat on the back."

Mycroft looks utterly confused by now. He opens his mouth but remains silent, his eyes fixed on her like she's some enigma he's trying to make sense of. "Mycroft, I'll never say those words again, not to anybody else, ever. Those words from me...are yours now". _I am yours._

She looks at him as he steps closer again and this time she stays. He takes her by the arms and pulls her to the sofa. He makes her sit and crouches down in front of her, his hand on hers on her knee. "Tell me what happened", he requests, his tone a bit more demanding than before but still gentle, still patient. This feels so intimate, she realises. It feels good and safe. And now she's about to destroy it. "I have been feeling weird for about two weeks now", she begins. "I didn't know where it came from, so...so I wanted to check". Mycroft looks at her, listens while his fingers are stroking her hand. "Mycroft, I...I'm pregnant", she finally says and loses her breath in this moment. Her stomach is twisting once more but she ignores it. Her eyes are fixed on his, waiting for him to react. For a few horrible seconds he doesn't say anything, just looks at the floor, thinking.

When she can't stand it any longer, she asks: "Say something". At that he looks up at her again, his eyes reading her features like they do so often. "I see", he answeres and it makes her feel angry once more that she cannot see what he's thinking. She shakes his hand off hers and leans back on the sofa, her arms crossed. "So, what?", she asks. "What is it? What could you possibly be thinking right now?". Mycroft stands with a sigh and turns, walks a few steps through the room. He does not look at her when he says: "I think that you were scared to tell me". At that she stands as well but stays put in front of the sofa. She can feel them drifting apart from each other and she wants to stop them from doing so. This can't be happening.

" _If it comes between you and his beloved country..." - No!_

When he turns around to face her, she swallows hard. She can't help it for she is scared, pretty terrified in fact. "And I think that I owe you...an apology". Clara blinks. That's definitely not what she expected. She stares at him in wonder when he goes on: "For whatever I must have done or said to make you feel that scared of my reaction. I am sorry". At once, she feels terrible. How could she have been this wrong about him? She knows him, doesn't she? Isn't she supposed to know him best? "You-", she has no idea what to say. "But you don't want any children. You don't have the time, you...you don't like kids".

"I never said that I do not want any children", he corrects her. "I said that I have never wanted to be a father. And actually I never did. I could never imagine it until...well, until I met you".

Clara lets the weight of that confession sink in. Suddenly her knees feel weak and she's glad for the sofa right behind her. Somehow she makes it to remain upright. She fumbles on her rings nervously. "You work for the Government, you _are_ the Government.", she states. "You hardly see me until week-ends. How are you...?", she stops herself. She doesn't want to push him. That would be asking for too much. He is Mycroft Holmes. If he cannot do his work...

He lets his head drop briefly before looking at her again, his face serious. "They say that desperate times call for desperate measures, don't they?", he says. Clara feels her eyes grow even larger. He cannot possibly mean what she thinks he means. "I was not going to keep this position forever, you know. I am not immortal." He smiles warmly. "And if you need me to be around more often, I will be. You see, I love you, too". A relief so great floods her veins and she closes her eyes briefly, swallowing down upcoming tears. When she opens them again, Mycroft extends his arms.

"Come here", he requests gently and she does. She rests her head against his chest, like she wanted to do all day and breathes deeply. She can feel his fingers move through her hair carefully, feels his breath on top of her head. "I am sorry", he murmurs and she lifts her head to look up at him. "It's not your fault", she answers but he shakes his head. "Yes, it is. If I had been sharing my feelings openly with you, you would never have been mislead to think that I may not approve of a pregancy. I didn't do so because it was new and strange to me. I suppose, I was pretty scared myself." Her heart bounces briefly at his words. _Much ado about nothing._

She moves back into his arms, cuddling close. "It's okay now", she says, a warm feeling spreading inside her chest. "No, it's not", he replies and she looks at him once more. His hand comes up, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I promise I will not let any form of political camouflage come between us ever again. You deserve better than that. You're giving me the chance of having a family and it is about time that I start to treat you that way. It's time to let somebody else take my position. I am needed here". He smiles. Clara catches hold of his hand, squeezing it. "You don't have to do this", she shakes her head. "I know", he answers. "But I'd like to". Blinking her tears (tears of joy) away, she smiles back at him.

"I think we might like that", she chuckles, her hand on her belly.


End file.
